


Flitter, Flutter, Fall and Die

by JenJo



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Death as a character, F/M, Mentions of Death, morally ambiguous Nat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: Footsteps were the only sound that she allowed. One followed by another, and another, building up the tension in the target.They always fell prey to the fear; it was her speciality.The footsteps gave them the illusion that she was just like them, just another being that could be stopped.She always proved them wrong.One step, and then another, across the balcony. Through the window, and through the bedroom. Her prey lay beyond this door, thinking that he had protection in the fact that he could hear her coming.She always proved them wrong.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feignedsobriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feignedsobriquet/gifts).



> This work would be nothing without the AMAZING art inspired by it.
> 
> Re: Mentions of death:  
> Natasha in this fic is an "Agent of Death", meaning that she kills people for the embodiment of Death. Nothing graphic is depicted.

 

Before there were squabbles over possessions, before there were quibbles over properties,

Before humankind came and divided the world as it saw fit.

Before the humans forgot themselves, before they forgot they weren’t the centre of the universe,

Before all of that, was the time of Two.

 

Two, a pair, inseparable in word and deed. A pair for whom each other was all they would need.

The Two knew who they were, they knew all that was.

Two who were at peace, who never were morose.

The Two, a pair, existing together and in peace. A pair for whom unity would never cease.

 

All harmony must end, nothing is forever perfect. If The Two believed in forever, they had been sorely tricked.

A force greater than either had ever known,

A force for whom there was no renown,

A force which ripped apart paradise; The Two set to suffer twice.

 

Fall once, fall twice, fall thrice, and fall once more. The pain of it all was in the Two’s core.

From nothing they came, to nothing they fell.

For not even them did the funeral bell tell.

Fragmented and discordant, they fell apart; The Two set to crack open their heart.

 

 

 


	2. Body

  
  


Footsteps were the only sound that she allowed. One followed by another, and another, building up the tension in the target. 

They always fell prey to the fear; it was her speciality.

The footsteps gave them the illusion that she was just like them, just another being that could be stopped.

She always proved them wrong. 

One step, and then another, across the balcony. Through the window, and through the bedroom. Her prey lay beyond this door, thinking that he had protection in the fact that he could hear her coming.

She always proved them wrong.

A door opened, and her footsteps resumed. One step, and then another. 

Her prey’s footsteps quickened, his breathing coming faster and faster. 

He thought that he could hide in a bathroom.

She always proved them wrong.

One step, and then another, through the hallway and to the door. Locked, as though a lock could stop her.

As though hearing her thoughts, whatever being controlled her form slipped her into her  _ other  _ form, allowing her to step through the door.

Her prey was sitting in the bath, hands trembling, a whispered plea on his lips.

“Please, I have no quarrel with you.”

_ A deer has no quarrel with a lion,  _ echoed inside the prey’s head, her lips unmoving in this form.  _ But all fates are sealed, and running from them just brings more pain. Come, you know your fate Orion; you have lost what you had hoped to gain. _

The prey trembled, holding his hands out in front of him as though they could protect him.

She always proved them wrong.

~

She walks through the night, her footsteps as immaterial as her form. The sounds of sirens surround her; someone has found the corpse of her prey. 

Many whispered of her existence, but few knew of her for sure. She worked for Death itself, finding those who sought to avoid it’s grasp with bargains from lesser beings. Only fools thought they could stop something as powerful as Death itself.

She sought out these fools, and brought them to their rightful place. 

She had no past; for as long as she could remember, this had been her sole purpose. It would be her sole purpose for as long as Death allowed it.

Her footsteps sounded again, and it took a conscious effort to make them silent. She had returned to her corporeal form, without any warning. She occasionally had control over the change; but more often than not, she did not. It did not worry her, as she could perform her duty in either form as easily as breathing came to humans.

She did not breathe, not anymore. 

She could not remember what breathing felt like; she had heard the expression, during her many times where she would sit and observe humans. 

It was a worthy endeavour, watching the humans. She was able to mimic them more easily, which made tracking her prey all the more interesting.

She wasn’t meant to feel interest, she wasn’t meant to feel anything- she was to complete her tasks for Death; nothing more, nothing less. But she knew things that Death didn’t want her to.

Things that Death would break their agreement for.

Things like laughter, interest, thought, creativity. 

_ Love _ .

Love was a puzzle to her. She knew that she had memories linked to the emotion, but she could never recall them in any sort of clarity. Brief snapshots were all she had, of a life of love and joy.

 

_ A lover’s embrace. A smile shared between two souls, one that went deeper than any surface pleasantries. _

_ A sunset, watched in the secure embrace of a soul to which she would never be unbound. _

_ Lazy mornings by a fireplace, with not a care in the world besides being there with each other. _

 

But any time that she attempted to gain more insight into these snapshots, they would rip away from her. Most often, they would rip away just as the other person was about to come into view.

Death would know, Death always knew. 

But the moment that she admitted that she wasn’t completely Death’s agent, then she would cease to exist.

It was not a price that she was ready to pay. Not yet, anyway.

 

* * *

  
  


“The Soul has come to me, my agent. And yet you do not return. Explain.”

She closed off her mind, focusing on the shadows in the room. Death, when they walked the mortal plane, would inhabit the spaces between life and death- never in the light, nor in the dark. Never in plain sight, always just out of reach. 

The shadows suited Death.

She turned towards a particularly shadowy corner, and inclined her head. “Apologies, my lord. I fear my mortal form grows tired. By the words of our accord, I rest as the bones required.”

The shadows paused; she made no movement, gave no hints of agitation or weariness. She waited for Death’s verdict.

“Very well. I suppose we should think of finding a replacement for your form on this plane.”

“As before and always, I defer to your insight. As mortal forms I appraise, I bid my form a restful night.”

And as was so often the case, the shadows turned back to what they were always meant to be, the proof of obstruction of the light. 

She sat on the floor of the room, under the window pane. There were no furnishing in this room; merely a window to illuminate.

She had lied to Death, and Death did not suspect her. Death’s infallible wisdom was beginning to grow more and more holes. 

Until she had a way out of the arrangement, she had no choice but to play Death’s games.

A soul to Death, a soul to rest. For her impossible future, it was for the best.

 

* * *

  
  
  


There was a cafe a five minute walk from where she kept her residence. It was bright, and full of life, and a general reminder of everything that she was not.

People met there to smile, to laugh, to live together. All were welcome inside the four walls.

She had had no reason to ever set foot inside, but she always did whenever she was in this part of the world.

She could never have explained it, could never have given any logic to the choice. But she walked into the cafe, just like any other human would, and she felt a little bit alive within its walls.

The people who worked there knew her, or at least pretended to. 

The first time she had entered, they had greeted her like an old friend, asking if she had been on holiday, or had she been cheating on them with a different cafe. 

She had said she was out of town, and left it at that; back then, she had even fewer words available to her on the mortal plane, and she did not seek to waste them in a cafe.

The worker had taken it in stride, promising to bring her ‘her favourite’. She had no idea what that was, but handed over the paper they used for currency.

(Death had always frowned at the paper currency, not understanding what was wrong with gold.)

A mug had been brought to her, and she was brought the same drink every time she came here. It was hot, but cooled down rapidly in her hands. There was a touch of milk that had been heated, a bitter aroma, and a sweet undercurrent.

She drank it, despite having no need to.

It was part of the ritual.

She would come into the cafe, she would sit at the window facing the street, and she would drink from her mug.

Something deep within her told her that she was waiting. For someone or something, she could not say. 

She had tried to avoid the cafe altogether, one time she was in town.

The agony when she returned to Death’s Realm was unbearable. It felt like a great loss, as though she had failed to achieve the simplest of tasks and for it, she would never be whole again.

She never made that mistake again.

So today she sat at her table, watching the crowds of people walk past, just as she always did. The sense of waiting in the back of her head was there, but it seemed satisfied that she was in the right place.

A glimpse of a jaw, a profile of a face- she turned in awe, but was ripped from that place.

 

* * *

 

 

She found herself back in Death’s Realm, in front of the man she had most recently brought here.

“He refuses to talk, my dearest agent. Please remedy this.”

She felt the shadows at her back, saw the man’s eyes widen at them. Her hands had the barest shake to them- she  _ knew  _ that face.

It belonged in those memories that she wasn’t supposed to have.

Her lover, her soul, walked the mortal plane.

“My dear?” a whisper in her ear.

She clenched her hand into a fist, to stop the shaking. 

“Words are weak, but you know much. Answer as you speak, and you may escape Death’s clutch.”

The man shook in front of her, not realising he was already dead. Not realising all that he was about to incur, his every move his innocence plead.

  
  


* * *

 

 

“There was a hesitance about you.”

The man was placed in another room, to begin his future in Death’s Realm. She knew that she would not be able to avoid Death, not in their realm.

She turned, the shadows having formed themself into an attempt at a human mouth. The jaw was wrong, the teeth completely wrong. It was a thing of nightmares. But so was she.

“To show the man that I have a weakness.”

“Why?”

The word was drawn out. She paused, accessing her greater freedom over her word choice in this realm.

“A foe without weakness cannot be beaten. To give him a weakness, he gains hope. Only a man with a hope of escape would be willing to bargain for his life.”

The shadows reformed, the jaw becoming slightly more human. The teeth continued to be a lost cause.

“He still gave me nothing.”

“Not everyone breaks immediately. Some take time.”

The shadows moved behind her, and she turned, following the movement. They took on the form of a dog, sitting at attention.

“And some need a sense of comfort?”

She nodded.

The shadows reformed again, returning to the form of a mouth. “Very well. Your form has been gone from this realm for too long, my agent. You need sustenance, especially if your mortal form is weakening.”

She held her hands to her side. “I accept your gracious aid.”

The shadows swarmed, enveloping her whole. From within she was warmed, a sense of ease in her soul.

  
  


* * *

 

 

She found herself in the same town, in her place again.

An image of her assignment was at the front of her memories. Another man, related to the previous one. But there was something about this man, something that she had seen before. 

It did not matter, she had one purpose. She stood up, knowing what she had to do.

The sustenance ritual always left her weary; she lost all knowledge of herself during it, and only came back to consciousness when it was time for her next assignment. She was at her weakest, and if Death was ever going to find out her secrets, it would be during the ritual.

But there was no choice. Her existence was tied to Death’s grace; if she refused, she would cease to exist. But each time she felt the shadows close in, she feared she would not return.

She went to her cafe, where she had apparently disappeared for five months, if the workers were to be believed.

She believed them.

Her mug cooling in her hand, she watched the streets as always. If Death questioned it, she would say she was gathering movement patterns for crowds, to determine the best way to move through the city.

The truth was, she was hoping for another glimpse of her soul.

Five months was a long time on the mortal realm, and she had no knowledge of the person that she hoped to see.

All that she had, was a hope. And a hope was a dangerous thing, especially for her.

“I once knew someone who had the same favourite drink as you.”

The voice sounded as though it came from her memories. She knew the voice, better than she knew herself. 

“It’s not my favourite.”

A man sat down next to her, leaning on the table with his arm. “I think it is.”

She looked into his eyes, and saw recognition there. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“I can’t tell you,” he answered, and he looked sad for it. “You need to remember for yourself. Try for a name, a place, something specific.”

She looked into his eyes, opening her mind to the possibility of hope. 

 

Snowfall. A bright red jacket. Hands pulling the hood over her head, pressing a kiss to her snow covered forehead.

“Are you ready?”

A laugh, hands holding hands.

Walking through the snow, towards no destination.

Laughter, infectious and bright.

“ _ Sam _ .”

 

“Sam,” she whispered, watching the man’s eyes widen. “Your name is Sam.”

“What do you remember?”

“Snow. Red jacket. Walking. You kissed my forehead, right here,” she tapped her forehead in the same place.

He nodded. “It was our anniversary. You weren’t going to the the snowfall stop you from walking around the lake.”

She looked back to her mug, before she found herself swept away in his eyes. “I’m not talking in rhymes.”

“You’ve taken too much of Death into you.”

She shook her head. “I’m more human, but less.”

“You were never human.”

She looked up into sad eyes. “Who am I, Sam? Who was I before Death claimed me? Who am I to you?”

“Your name is Natasha. You were one of the finest warriors I had ever seen.” Sam paused, placing a hand face up on the table. “And to me, you are my soul. We share the one soul, because we are one. The closest human equivalent is marriage, but for our kind, it goes beyond words. It’s belonging to each other in a way the human mind can’t understand.”

She-  _ Natasha, I have a name now _ \- looked at Sam’s upturned hand. “If I touch your hand, I will regain all of my memories.”

“Yes.” He said it without emotion, as though he were hiding something.

“Including the memory of dying.”

“Some cannot regain that memory without dying again. I won’t force you to do-”

Natasha placed her hand into Sam’s, before he could finish his sentence. With a giant slam, Natasha began her repentance.

  
  


* * *

 

 

The humans called them angels long ago. Over time, the word had changed in meaning. Those original angels came from the skies, bringing many gifts and many curses.

Natasha had been part of the first generation born on the earth. Many had foretold that angels born on earth would bring about the destruction of their entire kind. They weren’t entirely wrong.

Natasha had been raised as a warrior, a weapon in her hand for as long as she could remember. She dealt justice for the angels, as directed by those above.

Her allegiance never faltered, and she did her duty whenever asked. Her fellow warriors were her family, in all the ways that mattered.

It was only for her family, that she questioned her choice.

Meeting Sam had been a revolution for her. He had stood up to her, telling her that the sentence was wrong. She had been sent to kill a child, and a child could not have committed a crime.

Sam was of her people, but he protected humans. He and his people had begun to find flaws in sentences, and sought to avoid conflict altogether.

She had spent a month listening to him argue for the humans. Humans, who would be dead within a century anyway. But the way that he defended them, it was mesmerising to her in a way that she had never known.

After that month, her superiors had decided that Sam was in the right. Wars against the humans would cease. 

Natasha now served no purpose in the world. 

Her family had returned to their lands, to find ways to be useful to this new world.

She had meant to go with them, but she could not leave Sam.

Every time she began to walk away, she felt a tug at her, and she would not be able to take a step away. 

So she didn’t. 

She knelt before Sam and his people one night, laying her sword and her dagger before her, and asked them how she could help them.

The people discussed it while she waited outside their rooms. Eventually Sam had come out, and said to her, “you can help us by learning.”

She had not known what that had meant, not at first. So she stayed by Sam’s side, watching him, learning his role in the community.

A community of humans and angels, and many other beings. She learnt names for beings and things that she had no reference for, all in the shadow of Sam.

If Sam had minded her following him, he said nothing of it.

Three decades of learning passed. Natasha had found her place in the community as a trainer. While the community had no need for violence, none were naive enough to assume they would never need such skills. Natasha was more than happy to help them learn how to protect themselves.

She still spent much time with Sam, and counted him as her closest friend. 

“You have shown me a world that I hope to never leave,” Natasha confessed one night, as the pair watched the stars. 

Sam picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Then never leave.”

Such simple words, from an angel that she had watched stand against other angels, armed only with his words, and won.

“I don’t think I could ever walk away from you,” she confessed four nights later, over a bowl of soup.

“Then never walk away from me,” Sam had responded, again kissing the back of her hand.

“I don’t want to know what a world without you by my side is like,” Sam confessed seven nights later, sitting beside Natasha underneath a bright moonlit sky.

Natasha lifted Sam’s hand out of the lake they sat in and pressed a kiss to the back of it, just as he had done previously. “Then never know that world.”

~

“A promise of forever between two angels is for forever. I promise my forever to you. Samuel, may every sun rise on the two of us united, and every moon fall on our one soul.”

“A promise of forever between two angels is for forever. I promise my forever to you. Natasha, may every battle we face be faced together. Let our enemies and allies alike know that we are one.”

“Inseparable until the world ceases to exist.”

“One soul, never to be untied.”

~

Six hundred and forty seven years their united soul inhabited the same realm. Each morning, they awoke together. And each night, they slept side by side. Even when they were not physically together, their souls were.

It all ended in a sort of poetic way, if one was to be poetic about it.

A final stand, the two of them back to back, fighting off a never ending wave of invaders as they fought to give their small village time to escape.

The small village which they had called home for barely ten years, full of beings seeking to escape the onslaught of retribution by humans, who had discovered that they weren’t the only kind to inhabit the earth.

The Final War, history would call it.

But in the moment, it was all Natasha could do to survive.

What the army lacked in skill, they more than made up for with numbers. For every foe they dropped, a dozen more were waiting behind them, ready to take up the fight.

Natasha and Sam may not have been human, but even their kind tired. 

A pause in the fight; the invaders were regrouping, clearly planning a final assault.

They would have to do the same.

She was the fighter of the pair, they both knew it. She had been raised for this, while he had been raised to win battles with words.

She turned to him, and saw the pain in his eyes.

“I won’t,” he said, shaking his head.

She put her swords on her back, and reached a hand up to cup his face. “You can get away. I’ll join you later.”

They both knew the lie for what it was.

He dropped his sword, taking both of her cheeks in his hands. “Don’t.”

She pulled his face forward, closing her eyes as she kissed him for the last time. “I’ll see you later,” she whispered as she rested her forehead on his.

“We won’t be parted,” he swore, letting go of her and picking up his sword. “You hear me, Natasha? We  _ will  _ see each other again.”

“Of course, Sam,” she said with a small smile, watching him make his way across the battlefield, to the safety of the forest and beyond.

She wiped at her eyes, before turning back to the approaching invaders.

A group of five horses rode forward. Natasha drew her blades again, warming up her hands for her final fight.

As the horses drew closer, she felt something that wasn’t human.

Her eyes locked on the lead horse- the human atop it had shadows for eyes, tendrils of shadows escaping its mouth.

“A human army lead by a smoke monster?” Natasha goaded, shaking her head. “Not very smart. What will the humans do when they discover you?”

“Natashaaa,” the  _ a  _ was drawn out as the former human dropped off its horse, and walked towards her. “The humans summoned me themselves. But your mistake will be your ruin.”

Natasha stepped forward, ready to strike, when a ring of shadow circled her feet and wrists, stopping her from moving. She stared, wide-eyed, as the former human stepped right up to her.

“I’m no mere smoke monster.” The shadows from its mouth wound around her neck, into her mouth, her eyes, her nose, her ears. The shadows consumed her from within. “I’m Death itself, and you are now mine.”

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha gasped, her hands flying to her neck. She was Death’s agent, she couldn’t suffocate on the mortal plane. But her body refused to listen to logic, doing its best to run out of breath.

“Natasha,” Sam’s words cut through the illusion, and she focused on his face.

“You watched it happen,” she whispered.

He nodded sadly. “I stopped within the treeline, and watched through your eyes.”

“It could have killed you.”

“It killed  _ you _ .” Sam held out a hand; Natasha nodded, and he stroked her cheek. “We promised each other forever, Natasha. Not even Death itself can stop us.”

“But it did,” Natasha said as she leaned into Sam’s hand.

“Only for a moment.”

“How many years?” she whispered, almost afraid to ask.

“That battle was seven hundred and thirteen years ago.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Looking for you.” Sam stroked down Natasha’s face, down her shoulder, down her arm, taking her hand in his. “You haven’t been used much, and it makes tracking you difficult. I actually came across this cafe by chance; apparently you looked like a regular who had left the state, and you kept returning here. I happened to walk in just after you left. You left an impression here. And here.” Sam used his free hand to tap his chest. “So I did the same. And I hoped with everything that I had, that there was enough of you left to bring you back here.”

Natasha nodded. “There was. I felt a need to come here, despite not needing to consume sustenance on this plane.” Natasha’s eyes widened, and she grew worried. “Death sent me to kill you.”

“Death can only target humans through his agents.”

“I’ve killed more than just humans for Death.” Natasha stood up, drawing away from Sam. “I can’t kill you.”

“Then don’t,” Sam stood up, holding his arms by his sides. “We can run.”

“Run? Run where?” Natasha looked around, for the first time noticing the frozen occupants in the cafe. “Why aren’t they moving?”

“You’re not the only one who has learnt new skills over the years.” Sam held out a hand again. “Natasha, we can run.”

“There is nowhere that Death does not have a hold of.”

“Natasha,” Sam sighed, stepping closer to her. He lifted a hand to run through her hair. She closed her eyes, reminded of many nights that started just like this. “We found each other again. We can run.”

A pause to catch her breath, she slowly opened her eyes. A plan to run from Death? She hoped it was more than lies.

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome home, my agent. You admit to being unable to find your target?”

Natasha let a smirk show; the shadows moved hurriedly, nervously. “Oh, I found my target.”

“Then why is he not mine?”

“I won’t give you what is rightfully mine.”

The shadows all drew tight together, before forming into a human. The same human shape that Death had taken control of, all those years ago. “You regained your memories.”

“Clearly.”

“Then you are of no use to me.” The shadows swarmed her, before reforming behind her. “What is this?”

“You aren’t the only one who can control shadows. Farewell,” Natasha gave Death a wave as she faded from sight.

Death flowed forward, anger flowing through it’s form. “The angel and the coward; do not pretend that you can escape Death’s Storm.” 

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha reformed in front of Sam, a triumphant smile on her face. “It worked.”

“I told you it would,” Sam matched her smile. 

“We just pissed off Death itself.”

“Yes, yes we did.”

Natasha reached out for Sam, pulling him into her arms. “We’ll have to always be on the run.”

“There are some places where even Death can’t reach.”

“There’s also the slight matter of me being dead on this plane.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to leave this plane.”

Natasha leant back, surprise evident on her face. “You can do that?”

Sam nodded. “Seven hundred years to plan this, my soul.”

Natasha leant forward, pressing her lips to Sam’s. 

“I do love to kiss you in any form you can take,” Sam spoke against her lips, a clear smile on his. “But the cold lips are something else.”

“Then you’ll just have to warm them up, won’t you.”

Sam laughed along with her. “Or I could take us to a plane where Death can’t find us.”

“Please,” Natasha whispered.

“Hold on tight,” he said with a kiss, and she held him close. The wind around them began to hiss, and from the mortal plane they escaped their woes. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Natasha opened her eyes, and had to take a breath. The air filled her lungs, and she laughed in joy.

“My heart is beating,” she sang, Sam’s face lit up in joy. “The blood is flowing through my veins. I haven’t eaten in over seven hundred years, and I don’t know where I am.”

Sam kissed her cheek, holding her close. “We’re on the Sun’s plane. We can stay here for a time, but we will have to leave.”

“How did you convince the  _ Sun  _ to let us stay here?”

“Seven hundred years of pleading.” Sam stepped back from Natasha, holding onto her hand and gesturing around them. “We have a forest, and a cabin. We have everything we could need, and time to enjoy ourselves.”

Natasha wound her arm through Sam’s, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I need to sleep. And eat. But after that? I am all yours.”

“Did I mention that there was a lake?”

Natasha lifted her head. “Let me guess- it’s identical to the one where we decided to spend eternity together.”

“Right down to the last patch of moss,” Sam confirmed. 

Natasha leaned up on her toes, kissing Sam’s cheek. “I do need food. I could be convinced to skip the sleep.”

Sam swept Natasha up into his arms, and began walking into the forest. “Then allow me to begin convincing you.”

Under a clear blue sky, in a lake identical to the one from so long ago, in order to Death defy, two angels once again began to glow. 

  
  


 


	3. Epilogue

 

Death searched high and low, through every plane and realm it could reach.

But it’s reach was inadequate, and Death was driven to screech.

Death’s cry, heard throughout the mortal plane, for the agent he had been cheated of

All for a long-forgotten angel’s love.

 

But Death does not stop, it cannot be tamed.

And soon a new agent would be named.

They would not be tasked as the agent of before,

This agent’s task would be a declaration of war.

 

For not even angels could escape Death forever.

Not even angels that thought themselves so clever.

Escaping Death’s clutches once was one thing,

And Death would have the final sting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :D  
> This fic would be NOTHING without the spectacular art. It was truly inspiring, and I'm going to go and stare at it for another 8 hours.


End file.
